Leave Out All The Rest
by theytalktome
Summary: Punk knows that John has been taking all of his money, but what exactly is he doing with it? Slash: CM Punk / JBL


John quirked his eyebrow as he heard the front door open, he set the laptop he'd been working on aside, putting his bright blue "I heart Chicago" sweater on, just in case his ever so darling husband had anyone else in tow; he liked to bring home friends unannounced, which sometimes didn't make for the most pleasant of situations.

He was pleased to find that the boy was alone, he grinned and wrapped his arms around him while he was bent over searching through the fridge, searching for the last can of Pepsi no doubt. John hid the cans in the back for that reason alone: there was time to sneak up on him.

"Where have you been?" he asked in a low tone, inhaling the lingering scent of cologne and kissing his neck when he stood back up, "I've been doing some work," he continued, not exactly waiting for a response to where he was while he dove into a five minute speech about what he was doing in his little office space.

"I," Phil kissed his lips as he was propped up onto the counter, "Was at the bank, if you must know," cutting John off always seemed so hard, but when he actually got some words in it got him to shut up for a while. "I just cashed that check of mine."

"What?!" John looked offended, "You left that on the table for me to bring to the bank!" his loving voice took a different direction, "I was going to take that to the bank when I finished my work! You know I was going to do that, why would you take it and cash it? That's a lot of money to just be walking around with, Phil! What do you think you're doing!"

"John, what the hell has gotten into you?! Calm the fuck down," he rolled his eyes, he was used to giving John every last paycheck he ever received, and any other form of money that crossed his hands, "I give you all the money I have, in fact; I don't know what you do with any of it. I trust you enough not to care what you do with my money. You always pay for me with your own anyways for whatever I ask. It's my money, mine, John, I can have it if I want it."

"Just what do you plan on doing with all of that?"

"Whatever I want. I'm sick of your fucking restrictions!"

"You don't appreciate anything I do for you," he scowled, "Go ahead, waste your money."

"I'm getting what I want with it."

"And I can't pay for it, why? You already pulled this stunt for my engagement and wedding rings, what now?"

A fight blew up instantly.

Punk waited patiently for things to cool down between them. He couldn't figure why he didn't just let John have that fight like he let him control so many other things, but their fights weren't about money, or anything that was really going to make an impact.

Finally, John came out of his office. He sat down beside Phil on their bed and cautiously put his arms around him; "I'm sorry," he whispered, holding him against his body.

"It's... okay," he was a little reluctant to apologize, but the way John smiled at him always got him every time, no matter how he tried to resist. He hesitated to relax against him, but he did so anyway. He never knew John to be so controlling, that wasn't really like him. John was overly protective, and he adored that. "John?" he turned, his brown eyes curiously batting at him, he knew he liked that.

"Yes?"

"...Why do make me give you everything that I earn?"

Their lips met and Layfield smiled, "I guess it is time I told you, we've been married for a while now."

"Three years," Phil snuggled closer against him, making himself comfortable in his arms after leaning up to kiss his cheek, "I couldn't be happier."

"The only thing that could make me happier is you understanding what I'm about to tell you."

"....Oh god, what?" he blinked and pushed away slightly, looking panicked.

John took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "Look, I know we're twelve years apart; you probably don't think that's a lot, and most people probably wouldn't either, Phil, but this bothers me, a lot...." He couldn't quite bare the look on Punk's face, the way his eyebrows curved with sadness mixed with the confused look in his eyes and his pierced lip quivering. John was confessing to him; that he felt old, and even brought up the prospect that weighed heavily on him since they got married, of being the first one of them to die.

"That... doesn't explain why you take my money, though," Phil tried to keep his focus on it when he was done screaming for him to stop talking like that and having those thoughts, as far as he was concerned they were vampires... they didn't need to worry about dieing. The most John had to worry about was loosing a fiddle challenge.

Explaining seemed so useless, he knew that Phil just wouldn't see it the way he did; he hadn't been seeing it the way he did so far, so why was this any different? He took a deep breath and combed his fingers through the long black hair he loved dearly and began to explain his position.

After all, it wasn't like he was stealing from him. Everything went to a savings account, carefully selected investments and financial securities. John went on and on about all the things he had prepared in case of his sudden demise, or demise down the future. The idea of divorce came up last and proved to be almost as big a fear as death had been; and still he had considered plans and the same financial support in that case as well.

When John discussed their marriage – it was never a bad thing, but when his second ex-wife came into play Phil constantly felt like he had something to live up to, and when John kissed him he knew he had nothing to worry about.


End file.
